


In the Quiet

by PilotintheAttic



Category: Original Work
Genre: Aftermath, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-29 02:47:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8472547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PilotintheAttic/pseuds/PilotintheAttic
Summary: A glimpse into the deterioration of Maine and Brandt's relationship.(written in 2012)





	1. Bruises

Brandt lay spread-eagled in the bed, gazing across the room at the calendar hung on the back of the closed door. The marks on it, various circles and crosses, told him it was Tuesday. Maine had a stupid habit of crossing off days just before going to bed – as if they wouldn’t be able to remember in the morning. It was somewhat hilarious, really. Brandt rubbed his eyes, and scanned the picture printed above the dates. It was of the sea, blue – like Maine’s eyes had been, so very very blue, last night. He smirked at the memory. 

“Brandt?”

A voice startled him from his thoughts, Maine’s voice. He grunted and sat up, grabbing a t-shirt from the floor at the side of the bed. The sound had come from the bathroom, and sounded...off. “Something wrong?” Brandt called as he put on the shirt and pushed himself lazily out of bed. 

“I just... c’mere a sec.” When he knew Brandt was at his side, Maine turned to him and cocked his head to expose the side of his neck. “Did you... realise you did this?”

The purple bruises of fingers lined the side of his neck. Brandt knit his eyebrows together. He had the vague memory of pinning Maine beneath him briefly, but...

“It really hurts,” Maine confessed, gingerly touching the fading marks. “I mean, I’m good with, say, the little bites you do – and I’m up for trying new things, sure, but this is a bit harsh right off the bat, don’t you think?” 

“I don’t remember doing it,” Brandt said.

“I guess you probably got overexcited,” Maine mused. “Just be more careful next time, yeah? Talk to me about things beforehand so-”

“I can’t remember doing it,” Brandt said again, something akin to realisation in his voice. 

Maine ceased rubbing the back of his neck and looked at him. “You okay?”

“Something must be wrong with me.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you-”

“No. No, it’s my fault.” Brandt sighed. “I’m sorry, I’ll be more careful next time.” 

Maine gave a small smile and moved forward to kiss his partner. Brandt, reciprocating, gently put his hands either side of Maine’s jaw to hold him close. But after a moment, Maine’s mouth contorted slightly and he made a muffled noise of discomfort, and pulled back. “Brandt...”

It was only then that Brandt noticed his hand had moved, and had been pressing, hard, on the bruised area on Maine’s neck. He immediately lifted both hands and stepped away. “God, sorry.”

Maine shook his head, the faintest trace of wariness in his eyes. “Go back to bed, Brandt,” he said. “You probably just need some rest.”


	2. Scratches

Cigarette smoke filled the room. It mixed with the burning incense and created a thick, heady haze. The windows were shut, door closed, lights off. Thin strips of light filtered in through the closed blinds, making bars on the bed and the bodies curled upon it. 

They lay motionless, naked, faced away from each other. One’s arms hugged its torso, reaching round to the shoulderblades which were lined with clawing marks. The blood had dried. The sweat had not. The other body had its knees tightly drawn up to its chest, arms tucked in, hands clenched into fists. It was shaking.

Maine couldn’t breathe. The room was hot and the air was thick. He was curled so tightly he couldn’t draw a full breath. His heart was pounding; he clutched his sides tighter. His fingers scraped at one of the scratches and the sudden pain made his pupils dilate. Slowly, he released his grip on himself and stretched his arms out in front of him. He stretched out his body a little, and forced himself to breathe deeply. He coughed, and sat up. Breathed again. Filled his lungs with the intoxicating smoke. 

He shut his eyes and turned to face the other body on the bed. He opened his eyes, but dropped his gaze to the sheets. “Is it…” he paused to cough; “is it okay if I touch you?”

The shivering body seemed to relax a little. Maine reached out and very gently placed his hand on the pale shoulder. He finally raised his eyes from the bedsheets. The man curled up in front of him was tall and thin, folded impossibly small. His skin was lightly freckled and very pale. At Maine’s touch, he began to relax and unfold. Maine gently pulled on his shoulder and turned him onto his back. 

Blue eyes greeted him, tired and brimming with tears. A mouth twisted and barely holding back sobs. Pale yellow hair damp with sweat. His eyes darted all over Maine’s body, unable to focus on his face. His hands gripped the bedsheets tightly. 

Maine sighed quietly. “I’m okay, Brandt. I’m not hurt. You didn’t hurt me. It’s all over now, it’s okay.” He sat back and put his hand next to his partner’s on the bed. “Are you alright?”

“I almost—” 

“No, you didn’t.”

“I tried to…” Brandt broke off, his words trembling. He inhaled sharply. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Maine shook his head. “You weren’t yourself. It happens. You’re back now though, you’ll be alright.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going through some old documents, and some of it's actually worth sharing! Here's an old vent piece.


End file.
